District Lines
by fracturates
Summary: The story of how Gale H. has a debt to settle with Madge U.
1. Prologue

**disclaimer**; this feels a little disjointed, but i swear it's going to have a proper start soon. first chapter is going to set it off with some sort of chronological order. this was just inspired after idling around, listening to endless music and reading about 100 different fanfics. i hope you enjoy it, and if you have any ideas, feel free to shoot them my way xo

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**Prologue**

"_There's a light at the end of every tunnel_."

He thought she was stupid. An optimist. But now he was staring down the barrel of a gun, and he could remember looking at her in the dappled starlight of the meadow, and feeling her breath on his skin. It was a lifetime ago, when she was seventeen and he was covered in coal dust. Her hand was small in his, dainty as a petal, and her lips were a rose of perfection. After all the time that had passed, this was where she became the most vivid. When he was looking at his own mortality. This tunnel was going to be firing a bullet into the space between his eyes; he just wanted it to be quick. He was resigned to the fact, there was no way out. He'd come here alone, foolishly. He was going to die alone.

"Any last words?" the question pulled him back to the present, hands behind his head, knees digging into the gravel. He thought he'd be more afraid, but the sound of her voice calmed him. It filled his body with peace, and he came to terms with the fact this was the end, this was where he was going to go, this was how. He always imagined it would be like his father, in the depths of the earth. The man stared at him, eyes steadfast and cold. He stared back, defiant to his last moment. He would never beg, he would never be reduced to asking someone to spare his life. So he looked down the barrel, and he remembered that there was a light at the end of every tunnel.

"Tell her I looked for her," the words are even, unmeasured, and out in the open. There's a pause, a narrow in the man's eyes, and the gun drops a fraction of an inch. Their breaths fill the air, in puffs of anticipation. One to pull the trigger, the other to feel the bullet. He's not completely safe, because it's still dangerously close to his forehead, and he is still unarmed and his legs are cramping.

"You gonna throw it all away? She don't even remember your name," if the words were meant to cut him, his skin was made of stone. He managed a shrug, and the deference of his words made the gun slip further down. Finally, it bumped against the man's leg. He still didn't move, but the man with the gun did. He stepped closer, bending over, and looking at him straight in the face. The lip sneered and the eyes bore into his, "why you wanna find her so bad?"

He could answer that easily. It was something he asked himself a lot. Why the hell was he doing this trek, tracking her down? It started with a rumour, one he had played with, one that had planted the seeds in his mind. It grew into this. He crossed from one end of Panem to another, and now he was here. His eyes were steady, his voice was soft.

"I've got a debt to settle."


	2. Infamous Last Words

**disclaimer**; i did write this at various early hours of the morning, so if parts don't make sense then i am actually very sorry, haha! i've been listening to a lot of boy & bear, so i hope no lyrics have snuck in xo

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Infamous Last Words

She always wanted to climb, to see the world from a different angle.

He always wanted to keep everything controlled and stable.

She wanted to break free, go on an adventure.

He wanted to take down the Capitol.

She read books with poems and music.

He filled his hours with hunting and mining.

But yet, he noticed her.

He noticed her stolen glances at him from the tops of her textbooks, from between her hair as she played with the tips. She saw him, and it was puzzling. The mayor's daughter, with her wide blue eyes that were always cast to the floor, had seen him. At first he tried to ignore her furtive looks, but as time wore on, it became more apparent. This made it more difficult to cast aside. So he started meeting her glances with glares, her blinks with scowls. And then he started to find himself seeking her out, just to see if she was still looking at him.

When she ate with Katniss at lunch, he'd see how the blonde girl would timidly offer her things from her tray. She didn't understand that they didn't want _charity_. They didn't want some girl from the town to feel sorry for them, to give them food. Especially not the mayor's daughter, the spawn of a man who has enough money to spare and lived in that big old mansion on the hill. He looked down on them in every way, and the fact _she_ wants to take pity on them is of no credit to her family. It was pathetic. But he saw her. And he hated every second his eyes would seek her out.

He noticed that she'd start the week off in a perfectly pressed uniform, but it would be creased and smudged come Friday. That annoyed him, because his had to remain clean the whole week, he didn't have spares. He noticed she'd sometimes start the day with her hair in a ponytail, but blonde strands would be leaking out come lunch, and it would fall out in waves by the end of the day. That annoyed him, because Posy would love the have one of those ribbons she used. He noticed how she would smile at everyone, and not shy away from a steely glare. That annoyed him, because she was rubbing her contentment, her lack of worry, in everyone's face.

Margaret Undersee pissed him off, and Gale Hawthorne had no fucking clue why.

When Katniss told him that they were taking strawberries to the mayor's house, he'd snorted. The man already knew they illegally poached from the Capitol's land, and he was grateful to him – as long as being grateful meant that he didn't want to be killed by firing squad for providing his family with food. It was another story entirely to go to his door and wave their doings in his face. But Katniss told him that Madge gave her the all clear, Katniss told him it would be the easiest money they ever made. And when Catnip put her mind to it, Gale would do anything.

She was right, of course, the family always overpaid them. She'd never say a word, but it frustrated Gale. God, he really hated it when Madge opened the door and was so waif like and gentle. Sometimes they'd hear the strains of her piano as she played, and he hated that too, because pianos didn't just grow on trees. Their house was resplendent, and she was a little Princess.

But when they went to the back door, she hardly looked at him. Maybe that was because he stared at her. He wanted to unnerve her, to make her stop noticing him. He would always walk away feeling a small triumph. Or at least, he had, until he glanced back one day and saw her watching him. God, he wanted to hate her. He wanted to, but he couldn't see anything wrong with her. He couldn't fault her for being a good person. He could be annoyed with her; he could be cold towards her. But she never did anything that would make him hate her. It almost made him want to loathe her more.

He'd mutter about the Undersees darkly, and Katniss would just tell him to shut up. Tell him Madge wasn't like the other town girls, though she had more right to be. That she wasn't a snob. He didn't care; he'd just shrug it off jarringly, and tell himself he didn't care. But he was starting to get interested in this small blonde girl. The one who watched him, who could never keep her hair up, who tried to smile at everyone. She had fallen on his radar, and that was what pissed him off the most. The fact she was always… there. Always lurking in his mind.

That sometimes he'd be running an errand for his mother in the town, and he would look for her before catching himself. Or in school, where he'd be standing to one side talking to someone, and catch her fleeting figure from the corner of his eye. She had fallen firmly in front of him, and the more he tried to avoid seeing her, the more prominent she became.

Standing here, after entering her huge and sprawling back garden, Katniss knocked on the door and they both waited. He considered what he could do to make her uncomfortable today, and resolved he would say something. Leaning against the wall, he heard the door click and saw it open. And there she was standing, a vision in white and blue. Her dress was pristine, it seemed to fall into every contour gently. Her hair was pulled over her shoulder and tied up with a simple blue ribbon. Reaping clothes. He expected to see good shoes on her feet, but they were bare. Before Katniss could hand the strawberries over, he felt the words bubble in his throat and leave his lips.

He never knew if he meant them as an insult, a sardonic statement to address the fact that everything she was wearing would put food on his family's table for a month or two. Or if it was a compliment, because she looked beautiful and fucking radiant. He didn't know, and by the time he spoke, it was too late.

"Pretty dress."


	3. The Way It Is

**disclaimer**; it was never going to be just from gale's perspective, i'll probably spend my time switching between the two. it was more natural to keep it as his for the first chapter. so i hope you like it c: xo

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The Way It Is

_~ I don't even like strawberries ~_

The pause. The moment. The words hung in the air, and she absorbed them. The first words he had spoken to her, and she didn't know if she should be hurt. She looked at him to try and read his face, but no sooner were the words out that it became expressionless. The cover was slammed back on as quickly as his voice had sounded, he was a closed book. Madge had spent careful care and attention, from afar, examining him. But up close, standing at her step, she was still not eye level, still no closer to understanding him. And she was distracted. She was entranced by the way his hair moved, the way the light seemed to make his tawny skin glow, the glimmer in his eyes…

… But those words resounded in her head like the most unholy bell, and she remembered where she was.

The air was weighted, and – suddenly – so was her heart. But she afforded him a single, questioning look, and then her mouth turned in the simplest of smiles she could manage. The smile that almost looked like a grimace, the smile that wanted to part and snap words at him. Words that sounded like this wasn't meant to go this way, the first thing he said to her wasn't meant to be this. It wasn't meant to be at the Reaping. He wasn't meant to look at her and see money, he was meant to look at her and see a girl who watched him every day. Who wanted the courage to speak to him, but lacked the tenacity. She almost forgot Katniss was there, as the war waged on in her thoughts.

And the battle cry went up. If Gale Hawthorne was going to be so rude, she wasn't going to afford him a dignified response. The smile was her hilt, and her words were the blade. She didn't wield them with much experience, and she probably cut a little bit too deeply, "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

They were standing there, a basket full of strawberries between them, and she didn't even like the fruit.

_~ Silly little rich girl ~_

Katniss's disapproval of his words registered somewhere on his radar, but his focus was completely on the blonde. His statement would have forced his mother to cuff him and demand he apologise, but his mother wasn't here. These were the first words he had spoken to Miss Princess Undersee, and they were slanted with the proper venom. But he hadn't wanted to insult her, not really. It _was_ a pretty dress. With a pretty girl poured into it. But all of her positive attributes ended there, because that was all she was. A nice face in a dress made of all the resources his family could never afford. If they had that money, his name wouldn't be in the Reaping Ball forty two times today.

The pause felt like a lifetime to Madge, it came quick as a snap to him. He wondered if he had heard her correctly. That if she ended up going to the Capitol, she wanted to look nice? There was a moment of confusion, a moment that Madge had taken to try and assess his words. Was she being serious? Was she being funny? Did Miss Princess think it was something to joke about, on the day of the Reaping? Screw Katniss and her glances between him and Madge, it was on now. Instead of letting the hot anger pour out of him like lava, he managed to wipe away the confusion, and look completely indifferent.

But this stupid little rich girl didn't have a fucking clue.

"You won't be going to the Capitol," it was that simple. He wanted to leave it there, but Madge shifted her weight slightly, as though feeling a little uncomfortable. As her hair moved, he saw the circular pin that was on the chest of her dress. Whatever the hell the design was, that was real gold. Real gold, on top of the expensive clothing she was wearing. This was such horse shit, Gale couldn't deal with being here anymore. He forgot the money this house gave them, his focus on the blonde, "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."

He had no idea he was looking at the face of the girl he was going to fall irrevocably in love with.

_~ The stupid dream ~_

The disappointment washed over her in ebbs and flows, but Gale would never understand. She wanted to take this whole thing back and have a better First Conversation. She had imagined walking into him at school, in the town. Somewhere. Not to have this conversation, out here, with him. She wished she hadn't said what she did the moment she had seen his expression. The small balloon of victory that had welled in her stomach when she had spoken those words to him depleted suddenly, and an apology quickly bubbled to her throat. There was more to her than this, more to her than what she had just said.

She was just a girl with a silly dream, one that could never be. Because the way he was looking at her was empty, the way he had spoken to her had almost knocked the air from her lungs. Stupid dream. Stupid girl. She saw the way his eyes had travelled to her aunt's pin, the way his words had been so weighted afterwards. His entries were his tesserae. He didn't know the meaning behind this pin, he thought she was wearing it to be a snob, to showcase her wealth. And though she desperately wanted this whole thing to go differently, that knowledge made her defiant.

She tipped her chin up, she stared at him. And Gale blazed back.

"That's not her fault."

The voice comes from a forgotten source, the contact breaks. Madge remembers Katniss is there, and Gale forgets the blonde girl who captured his attention for those brief moments. Who's voice danced in his ears, and who stood there with a closed off expression to hide the turmoil that was twisting her gut. The turmoil he couldn't hear, the sort he wouldn't care about. His words swim to her, his rumble framing them, but she can feel the pointed jab behind it. _No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is_.

She doesn't want to talk about this anymore. She doesn't want to tell him to really look at her, to really notice her. To know that this girl wasn't all the things he thought she was. She just kept her expression drawn blank, and she looked at Katniss. Her friend. She takes the basket from the other girl, and replaces it with the coins her father had put to the side. And she does the only thing she can do, a final petty move.

"Good luck, Katniss." And you too, Gale. But the door is closed and the infernal smell of strawberries fills her senses.

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_A/N i have been full of muse recently, so the chapters have been flying out. don't get used to it :') xo_


	4. The Interrupting Voice

**disclaimer; i had a horrible time trying to get this chapter up, but i seem to have found my muse for it again. i hope you guys like it and it's not a huge let down.**

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The Interrupting Voice

~ _Wrong place, wrong time_ ~

She walks alone.

There are not many activities Madge partakes with other people, mainly sports or school related when at school and even then it's only with Katniss. Walking alone is one of her favourite things to do, second to playing the piano and third to losing herself in books. She likes not having to think of conversation, not having to pay much attention, and appreciating the wind as it tugs her hair. She is a little mindful today, not wanting to smudge her dress, but walking helps her take her mind away from the Reaping. Her anxiety is mandatory, though her confidence stems from only having a handful of entries compared to others in the District.

Others like Katniss. Gale. Fallon. People she knew from the Seam, and people that she had grown up with. Her steps are leading her through the no man's land between the town and the square, a stretch of unmarked road that winds its way into dust as it approaches the Seam. Her steps make no noise; the brush of her shoes against the cobbles is a barely discernible whisper. The young Miss Undersee needed some time to herself, some time to ignore the fact that Gale had managed to crawl into her skull and sit there and fester. Some time to get ready, to compose herself, because she was sixteen and it was the 74th Hunger Games reaping.

But she noticed him, she noticed him like every other time. It was like a sense, a tingle up her skin, the feel of Seam grey eyes brushing over her. Her steps stopped, and the blues roamed over where she was standing to her left, towards a window ledge he was leaning himself against. He didn't look overly impressed to see her there, as though she was interrupting his quiet time. Away from his extensive family, and the pressures of being the eldest – shouldering the tesserae. Guilt shot through her, but it didn't make an impression on her pride. She kept her gaze steady, and her expression impassive.

She saw the slight shake of his head, and that was enough to turn her culpability into warm irritation, melting through her shield and forcing the golden eyebrows to contract, "Shouldn't you be at home, _Hawthorne_?"

~ _Whiplash_ ~

His head snapped up straight at the tone she used on his name, heavy with derision and laced with contempt. He could see the slight flush in her cheeks, and he knew that she was still smarting over their earlier interaction. Even though there was something larger happening today, something that would possibly even involve him – because, statistically, the odds were _not_ in his favour – he had to fight the smirk that wanted to cross his features. Who knew that soft, sweet, Undersee would have a little bit of fire in her belly. A little bit of wounded pride. He kept his arms crossed, tipping his head to the side slightly as he looked over her.

From the top of her that halo of blonde hair, down the small and sloping shoulders, past the gentle swell of her chest and the sweep of her waist, to the pristine white shoes she encased her feet in. When he looked back at her, he saw that his deeply analytical observation made the crimson colour deepen. But he was sure that it was for a _completely_ different reason. She wasn't angry, no, this flush was something more. He had his assumptions, though he questioned himself if he should be acting on them now. He figured now was as good as any other time, seeing as he could be going to the arena later on. Straightening up, his arms uncrossed and hands slipped into the pockets of his Reaping pants.

Undersee could be as prim and proper as she wanted, he could tell himself he hated her as much as he wanted to, but he knew that sort of blush well. Maybe it was a little selfish to be doing this, maybe he should keep to being cold and aloof, push her away. But his thoughts meant nothing, because he had made his mind up already.

He took a couple of steps, closing the distance between them slightly. She maintained her stance, pressing her lips together, and curling the fabric of her summery white dress between her hands. So Gale took a few more towards her, seeing the way her eyes tracked his movements, though avoided looking at him. How her alabaster skin seemed to be alight from within, and how her pink lips were in an almost perfect straight line. When he was at a place where he was close enough to touch her, she lifted her head upwards, fixing him with a stare over her straight nose. He still didn't smile, and the lack of warmth in his expression was probably why he saw her breath hitch a little in her chest.

"Why, _Madge_, does it bother you?" his voice carried a different weight to hers, almost teasing but set against his serious expression. He stepped again, now impossibly close, and his head bending over and closer to hers, "Anyone would think you didn't want me around."

~ _Turning tables_ ~

She almost had to pinch herself, was this the same Gale from earlier, the one who had been full of disregard and anger towards her? The redness in her cheeks was causing the blood to pound in her ears. She wanted to be mad at him still, but it was hard to feel over the fact his proximity made her feel electric shocks over her skin. His breath barely washed over her skin, but there was something distinctive in the scent. It was almost exotic in its unfamiliarity, and she was hating herself more and more by the second for even being taken in by this charade. He was playing with her, he was trying to menace her. The way he had said her nickname, foreign in his voice, was enough for her to realise.

She forced herself to move away from him, the gesture so unprecedented with the violence she took to it, that Gale recoiled slightly. Maybe he had become a little absorbed in this childish staring contest, but at the glare in her blue eyes he lost the semblance of a grin and shook his head again. Madge wanted nothing more than to smack him in the chest and tell him to leave her alone. Instead, she opted to swallow down that lump in her throat. Maybe she had wanted this sort of interaction with Gale; he had been close enough that she could have kissed him. But not today, and not after the way he had acted with her before.

"I _don't_ want you around, Hawthorne," she kept up the use of his second name, because she had never spoken to him and addressed him by his first before. She was saving it up, she was going to use it at a different time. If they had a different time. She immediately regretted not taking the opportunity with Gale when it had presented itself, "I think you should go back home and be with your family. Everyone is going to the Square already." She didn't know if she was lying or not, but the words seemed to sink with the male and he shrugged his shoulder jaggedly, stepping away from her himself. But she still watched him, and he still watched her.

"I don't believe you," he said simply, and she knew he didn't mean the second aspect of her speech. She shrugged back at him, and he moved a hand through his hair. She took a step away, he took another to mirror hers, "I don't believe you for a second." She just blinked at him, and felt the need to break away from his eyes. But she couldn't. She was drinking every aspect of this moment, and she was committing it to memory.

"Fine," she retorted, voice harsher than she had intended. She saw the briefest half smile as he turned on his heel to walk away from her. She couldn't stop herself from calling out to his retreating figure, "I don't want you around!" And then with a second of thought, she added something else because she had to, "Good luck, Hawthorne." She watched his hand lift in a dismissive wave and she bit her bottom lip.

This stupid crush was going to drive her insane.


	5. Tiny Little Fractures

**disclaimer**; okay, i know this took quite a bit of time, i hope that you enjoy this! i wrote it in the most ridiculous way and it took forever. i had some trouble with their interaction xo

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Tiny Little Fractures

~ _Anyone but him _~

This was a punch in the chest. This was a hand reaching between his rib cage, trying to pull his heart out. This was a break that was stretching all over him, threatening to make him fall apart into tiny pieces. _Primrose Everdeen_. One name, one slip, amongst thousands. _Thousands_. But if that wasn't bad enough, if hearing the name of the little girl who was almost like his _sister_, someone he would anything to protect, was Reaped – what followed was enough to make him forget to breathe. While he recovered from the shock, watching Primrose walk with her shirt sticking out at the back, he saw her from the corner of his eye. A dark head was pushing her way through, was bursting out as Prim got closer to the steps.

_I volunteer_.

Her voice was shrill, pained, agonised. Every emotion that would have ridden his tone if Rory had been the boy to get picked from the bowl, every feeling that was coursing through him. It wasn't a cry, it was a sound of utter anguish. There was hardly a breath; the hushed silence came in the form of air being held in lungs. All he can see is Katniss, all he can see are the Peacekeepers trying to keep her from getting to Primrose. He watches her back straighten, he sees her regain composure. All he wants to do is come through, to stop this from happening. Not Primrose, _not Katniss_. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his lips parted, he breathed in deeply because he was sure that a part of him had forgotten how.

_I volunteer as tribute._

And she was gone. Prim's scream tore through him like a hurricane, and he felt his feet moving before he realised he was approaching the scene. Prim wasn't letting her go; he didn't want to let her go. But she had to. Being her anchor wasn't going to make anything better. Grabbing Prim by her waist, he prised her away, he wrapped her up in his arms and let her thrash and kick and try and escape him. All he did was meet Katniss's eyes, and he knew that everything within him was shining in his look, "Up you go, Catnip." Prim was hysterical, and he couldn't stand there and let this get worse. So he moved, he took Primrose back to her mother, and he turned his back on Katniss.

On the girl he loved. Who he vowed to himself to protect, because that was what he did. He protected. Prim had calmed by the time he reached Mrs Everdeen, and he couldn't look the woman in the eye. He just had to… he had to go back and wait. Selfishly, he hoped it was his name that was pulled out, so he could be there with her. So he'd know that she would survive, no one else would lay down their life for Katniss. All he could do was stare at her, nothing else around them mattered, he could only stare at her and remember her like this. He didn't even realise the boys' names were being rifled through till he heard _Peeta Mellark_ resounding through the Square.

Oh God. No. Not _him_. Anyone but _him._

~ _The heart says no_ ~

She was without her pin. She had given it to Katniss, a good luck charm. A mark that she wasn't a part of their Games, she was better than that. Just as the rebels had used the mockingjay, Katniss would use this pin as a mark to not be just _any_ _other_ _tribute_. She was from District 12, she was her friend. She had wanted to see Peeta too, but by the time she went towards his room, seeing his mother leaving the room with his brothers, he was allowed no more visitors. So Madge left, she walked away from the Justice Building, and she twisted her hands between themselves. Her footsteps wandered away, she wished she could become insubstantial, disappear into thin air. In a number of hours, the Reapings were going to be shown for everyone, and she was going to relive this.

They were all going to relive it, really. She had seen Katniss's mother and her sister, she had seen Gale. While she felt the pain, twisting and clutching her, she knew that she wasn't feeling the grip as tightly as those who truly loved Katniss. Those who nurtured her, who were cared for by her, who loved her – who were loved _by_ her. Madge was her friend, and while she saw the girl as being her best friend – she knew she was really an acquaintance. She never laboured under illusions, but it didn't make the fact that Katniss was going into the arena any easier to cope with. Giving her the pin, her aunt's pin, was the only thing that made sense. The only thing she could do to try and see her through. Madge wished that there was something else in her power, but what was she? Everyone was a pawn, another person to manipulate; even her father wasn't above the whim of the Capitol.

_Madge!_

She was so angry, angry and upset, that Katniss was going away. And Peeta, she knew Peeta in a way. Always with a warm and ready smile in the bakery, surrounded by friends in school, she was sure no one had a bad word to say about him. If Madge thought about it, if she let her mind wander down there, all she would see was the bloodshed and their faces superimposed over it. Powerless. It just made her angrier. Her fingers fumbled with her ribbon, tugging at it until the locks spilled out and screwing the silky fabric in her fist. She wanted to get back home, sit at her piano, and bash out her feelings. She wanted to do something, stop this somehow. Action only flares in you when something, someone, you care about it at risk. It was the spark, the flame, that wanted to erupt and burn the world into justice. But she was a sixteen year old girl, stuck in the poorest District of Panem, what was she going to do?

_Madge!_

Her mother told her that the saddest words were _might have been_. What might have been if Madge had done something? Tried to make a change? She bit her lip. A hand closed over her wrist. Yelping, she tried to yank it free but found the grip was iron. Spinning around, ignoring the spraining feeling in her muscle, blue eyes flew upwards and saw… _Gale_? Her heart jumped slightly, suddenly aware of how his hand almost doubled closed over the joint, how rough and warm the skin was against her cooler skin.

"I was calling out for you since you passed the general store!" her eyes skittered away from him, looking at how far they'd walked from the store. She couldn't see it, he must have been following her for about ten minutes! She felt a twist of nerves, a fluttering in her stomach, thinking that maybe after today… after everything he'd said and done… "Why the hell did you give Katniss your stupid pin?!"

~ _The empty atmosphere_ ~

Maybe he had been a little too accusatory, he wasn't sure. But he had entered the room to see Katniss as Madge left, and fastened on her dress was a familiar object, glittering in the half light. He'd barely paid it any heed while he had been in there, too focused on his best friend and the fact those were his last moments with her. But as he left, as he caught sight of Madge off in the distance – her hair shimmering in the same way as that pin – he remembered where he had last seen it. And maybe it was because he had so much pent up inside of him, maybe it was because there was too much on his mind and not enough time to get it out of his system… He followed her. He stalked behind her, called out for her twice, but she was completely lost in her own world.

Maybe reaching out to her wasn't the best idea, the sound she made certainly made it sound like he had made a mistake. He half expected her to push him away, perhaps to slap him, but the moment her eyes saw who it was she seemed to deflate slightly. All that did was hike his own temper up, that she was so willing to back down. He wanted a fight, he wanted an argument. Maybe he had been wrong in thinking that Madge would provide that, but he wasn't going to step away. The morning had been ridden with the undertone of her frustration toward him, punctuated with his own with her… And then Katniss was Reaped, and then Peeta. And the last straw had been the pin, Madge's fault. Everything became her fault all of a sudden.

Her expression darkened with hurt, and he half expected her to stutter, put out the fire in his belly with guilt instead.

"How _dare_ you!" the shriek startled him enough that his grip loosened, and she was yanking her wrist out. Even though she was angry at him, there were tears shining against her eyes. He had no idea what to make of it, she seemed to filling in both of the roles he had expected from her – and he was lost, "She is my _friend_ too, Gale! If I want to give her my stupid pin, I will! I don't have to get your permission, so how about you climb off of your high horse and stop worrying that thick skull of yours with things that have _nothing_ to do with you!"

He watched Madge spin away from him, hair flying into her face, but she merely pushed it away and stormed away. Gale told himself to let her go, to watch her retreating figure and make no more moves towards her. But his feet reacted on their own accord; stepping in front of the blonde and watching her steps come to an ungainly halt.

"I just don't understand what you expect to gain from this, how is it meant to help her? You're giving her a painted target," gritting his teeth, he saw the way she blinked at him and opened her mouth to speak, "Why are you getting involved, Madge? How much do you really know about Katniss?" Did he want to hurt her? Yes. He did. Maybe that made him horrible, maybe he was cruel, but most of all – Gale was hurting and he didn't want to take this home with him when he was meant to be with his family. When he had to be strong. He didn't have time to go and hunt and yell his anger to the trees, not with all the peacekeepers around.

"_What_ is your problem with me, Hawthorne? _What_ have I ever done to you?" the anger seemed to gradually drip away from her words with every one she threw at him. By the end, she sounded confused, inquisitive. Her brow was still furrowed, her lips turned down slightly, but it was enough that the brim of his anger seemed to back away slightly.

"I don't have a problem with you." Other than the fact he _noticed_ her. He saw her, she saw him. Other than the fact she followed him with her eyes, and blushed around him. Other than he wanted to, with every fibre of himself, hate Madge Undersee and he fucking couldn't.

~ _A threat or a promise_ ~

"I only wanted to give her a token," her tone was softer than it had been, following the cue from his response. He hadn't snapped, she wasn't going to either, "Just something to take from the District." Something that would shine in the gloom of the other tributes, something that would call attention to her and make everyone realise that she was Katniss Everdeen. Gale had to understand that it hadn't been to put her in danger, why would Madge want Katniss to be harmed? Managing to blink back the moisture in her eyes, she saw Gale's head nod, and she knew that he felt everything as keenly as she did. He felt it more, he felt the salt in his wound.

"We're on the same team, Gale."

The taste of his first name stuck in her mouth. It was like a whisper, the antithesis of the true stormy meaning, it was round and full against her tongue. It fit. She watched the brows raise as he heard it in her voice, how the grey eyes met hers and something like electricity shot through her. His back straightened and her arms stiffened. The sun glared down on them, her hair stuck to her cheeks and a droplet of sweat snaked across his hairline and down his jaw, but neither moved as the statement hung in the air. Gale's hand came towards her with no thought, and when his fingertips brushed her jaw, they seemed to jolt out of it. His hand withdrew, Madge stepped backwards.

The moment fractured into a million little pieces, and he shook his head.

"No, Madge. We're not."


	6. Undrowned

**disclaimer;** i _finally_ got this up! i hope you guys are still invested. this did take a long time, but i hope it was relatively worth it xo

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Undrowned

~ _Pressing matters_ ~

"Watch your feet, Undersee."

He supposed that was the problem, she had been watching her feet. He was already running late, he was a hunting partner down and his family were living on scraps. But he'd been called in after class for some advice he didn't fucking need, because keeping up with math homework was really going to help him down in the mines. His temper was frayed, his best friend was in the Capitol, and tonight were her interviews. Gale wanted to go to the woods, at least to check the snares, and then come back and go to the Everdeen house. But one thing and another kept cropping up.

_Madge_ kept cropping up. Why was in every damn place he walked, he could swear it. What the fuck was she doing here after school anyway? He looked at her arms and saw papers and books bundled in them. The expression on his face probably gave away the unspoken question because she was soon answering, "Tutoring. I um. I'm a tutor, for the students. Obviously." The way she babbled was so different to the last time they had really spoken, outside of the Justice Building. If could compare that girl to the one standing in front of him, dressed in her white blouse and skirt, hair messily hanging out of her pony tail, he would hardly have even said they were the same person.

"I see," he did see. It didn't mean he necessarily cared. But as usual when around Madge, he found himself wanting to leave but everything else unwilling to do so. It was those eyes, those clear blues that followed him everywhere. A slight frown dipped between his brows and he shook his head, "I need to go back home." Madge just nodded her head, not moving to get out of his way – she wasn't _in _his way. There was nothing for him to dodge. She was small enough that he could have easily bypassed her if she was standing in the middle of a doorway. Still, he took a single sidestep and that was all.

"Okay, I'll see you around," but she didn't move either. It was like they were waiting for the other to take the first step, and both were stubbornly – relentlessly – not going to do it. Gale looked her over, and that same redness rose back to those cheeks, because she could feel his gaze roaming over her. This time he didn't smirk, he just met her eyes after and Madge knew it was a challenge for her to move. Instead, she initiated a conversation, "You know, if you need some tutoring..."

~ _Exorcism _~

The devil had possessed her.

Gale told her he was going, she conceded – but they were both standing there and the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. On the scale of meetings they'd had, this one had been rather pleasant so far. She had managed to ignore the way she was completely invigorated by the look in his eyes, the way he gazed at her for a moment, the fact he wasn't moving. She managed to pretend that she didn't want to react completely out of character and do something stupid. _Why_ had she said that though? Out of everything she could have uttered, it was that. Maybe she was still smarting, or maybe she had lost her mind somewhere.

No, the devil had possessed her and now he had fled, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of her words. The way his expression shifted into bewilderment made her swallow and she shook her head. It was as though nerves made a fool out of her when she spoke to him, which was the worst time to stumble, "I just. I mean. I said I was tutoring, and you said you were going... I was just making a joke." It was a lame excuse, she wasn't even sure if it counted as an excuse more like a reason for something unreasonable. Her fingers moved to her hair nervously, knowing she could just walk off now with blazing cheeks – knowing she _should_ walk out now because she had somewhere to be.

"A joke," he echoed, shaking his head as though he realised he didn't have the time or the patience to be around her. She bit her bottom lip, and the nip grew a little harder as he suddenly grinned at her, "If you're offering." _He just wants a reaction_. And boy, was she giving him one. The heat moved through her veins again, and she swallowed, looking down. The air was tense, and Madge didn't deal with tension well. She ended up doing something stupid, uncharacteristic. And why was he speaking to her like this anyway, when his best friend was going to be broadcast over the screens tonight? The girl, she knew, he had feelings for. More feelings that coy words he was using on her.

"I really have to go." It was a mutter, nonsensical and only to get away from him. She heard him sigh as she turned her back to him, muttering something and then his steps moving away from her. Well, she thought they were. As she reached the door, her hand darting out to open it and hideaway in these books and explanations, his fingers reached out to her, but this time he didn't hold her wrist too hard. In fact, his fingertips just brushed over the exposed skin and made her hand dart back to where it was safe. Where it wasn't near him. Looking back up, she lifted an eyebrow as noncommittally as she could, "Have you rethought the offer?"

~ _Invitations_ ~

Words failed him for a moment. Because he wasn't going to insult her, he wasn't going to provoke her. Because, for some reason, he thought he... There was an empty feeling in his chest; there was an absence of _something_. Madge just distracted him, she made him stop thinking. When she turned away, when he saw her walk away, he pushed her away from his jumbled thoughts and he let her do what she had to do. He had stuff, he had to do things. But Madge... Risking a glance over his shoulder was the worst idea, seeing her fingers push hair behind her ear and the curve of her cheek. Before he could control his motions, he was there, he was touching her. And she was moving her hand away, looking at him as though he had grown another head.

Her question made a shadow of a grin cross his features, and she looked away with the appropriate bashfulness. Fingers curled at his side, he didn't know how to speak to her. Why the _fuck_ did he not know how to speak to her? Rubbing the back of his neck, he just blurted it out, "No. But. I'm going to the Everdeen house for the interviews. You're Katniss's friend too, I thought... If you wanted to." Her eyes widened and he found he liked the way she looked at him to make sure he was being serious. How she moved the books in her arms, shifted her weight.

How she tipped her head to the side to think, how she had a slight overbite.

How she was nothing like anyone he had known, and it made him hate her too.

"I'd love to," she murmured, managing a tentative smile. He nodded curtly, turned on his heel and walked away. He wondered how badly he had lost his mind with Katniss gone, he wondered if this was all he wanted from her.

~ _Doing some thinking_ ~

Madge watched him go, she smiled to herself.

She didn't think it meant anything – but it didn't stop her from wishing.


End file.
